Consummation pt II
by violet3
Summary: story accompaniment to Consummation
1. Chapter one

At Twenty, Hermione Granger felt completely alone. The strange bit was, she thoroughly adored it, for the most part.  
  
For the first time in her life, she lived alone. Free of Hogwarts, of her family home, and of live-in romance. To be honest, free of romance entirely.  
  
It was an adjustment, to be sure, but she had gone in with practical optimism, which had quickly became sheer elation when she discovered the tiny joys of cooking for one, evenings in, and having everything arranged exactly as she liked.  
  
The first two weeks of being a single woman had been rather awkward. Still treading lightly where Ron was concerned, Hermione was determined to reinvent herself, and find out exactly what she had missed out on in her days as the monogamous bookworm.  
  
She had bought a new wardrobe, entirely based on one kind, if not tragically misguided sales witch's opinion, which turned out to be a wee bit more daring than her delicate self-image could handle. Armed with thigh high dragon hide boots and more chain mail brassieres than one could reasonably put to use in three lifetimes as a dominatrix, she had hit the London night scene, both muggle and wizard, and was vastly disappointed with both, each for distinctive reasons, save for one common, major flaw. Men. Apparently, her father was right; they really were all the same.  
  
After several failed attempts at an enjoyable evening out, due primarily to a distaste for both alcahol and over-zealous men (though the unfortunate evening wear may have been partly responsible), Hermione wisely chucked the new clothes (saving only the boots, which she had become rather fond of) and resolved to enjoy being a single woman by strengthening her own person, rather than becoming a new one entirely.  
  
She found a cozy flat in a wizarding neighbourhood near her parent's home outside of London, indulged in a book-buying binge in flourish and blots to battle late night loneliness, and threw herself into her work, taking on additional side projects helping with research for the aurors to distract her from her regular assignments, and more importantly, from her partner, Ron.  
  
Hermione and Ron had been a couple for a year and a half, having entered unspeakable training together. After their first mission, Ron had broken down, and Hermione had pulled him back and taken care of him. For the first time, Hermione saw Ron as defeatable, someone far more delicate than she had ever considered, and he, in turn, saw Hermione's strength, as well as her ability to emotionally detach herself from a crisis.  
  
They grew closer than ever before during the week of recuperation, but afterward, having immediately been sent on separate missions, they felt a rift growing between them; Hermione was frightened by Ron's intense emotional reactions, and Ron was worried about Hermione's lack of them.  
  
Upon returning home, they had awkwardly tried to return to normal, but had finally realized that neither could emotionally provide for each other as a romantic partner, but likewise, could not live without each other as friends.  
  
After a few months of adjusting to the absence of romance between them, they once again discovered the easy companionship they had honed for six years before becoming a couple, and each felt even more love for the other than during their entire romantic relationship.  
  
Ron had moved on quite comfortably, engaging in short trysts every few weeks with different women, from whom he rarely had contact with afterward, which suited both his work and his romantic capacity.  
  
Hermione was indeed finding tremendous freedom in being single, for she had not been on her own since graduation, and she rather liked being an "independent woman", throwing herself completely and utterly into her work. She considered her life, while a bit lonely, perhaps, to be very satisfying on the whole, and found companionship in the people whom she had come to love as family; Harry, the entire Weasley family, and Dumbledore, who had become something of a father figure to her after graduation.  
  
Hermione, Ron, and Harry and all joined the Order of the Phoenix on their last night at Hogwarts. There was to be a large meeting, and an mass initiation of supporting member the following week, but as Dumbledore had specific plans for the three, and wanted them to be as involved as they were willing, arranged an initiation for them with only the core member of the order present.  
  
Their lives had changed that night, and not a one of them regretted it. Finally they were of age to join the fight publicly, and ally their skills with the elder members of the resistance, rather than trying to participate form the sidelines, often causing as much damage as progress.  
  
The night they were brought into the fold, Dumbledore spoke with each of them at length about the commitment and the sacrifices it would require, and embraced each of them as a father might before bringing them into the meeting. Hermione he embraced the longest, almost seeming reluctant to bring her into the next room. He worried that with her zeal for hard work and tendency to throw herself completely into it that she would isolate herself, and miss out of fulfilling relationships.  
  
He had been right. Two years after graduation, after joining the order, Hermione was growing tired of returning home to an empty flat, tired of having no one but Harry and Ron to talk to, both of whom she loved dearly, but neither seemed to fill her need for companionship, and she knew that she would have to give up her job in order to have a chance at a successful relationship; she could not expect a partner to be comfortable with her long, unexplained absences and secrecy, and she was unwilling to abandon her work, her lifeline.  
  
Even her relationship with her parents suffered; they did not understand the war that was going on in a world apart from theirs, and understood even less why their only daughter insisted on risking her life to be a part of it.  
  
Despite having moved nearer to them after her breakup with Ron, Hermione's usually easy going relationship with her parents began to crack as they grew more and more aware of her lengthy absences due to work, and drew their own conclusions about the levels of danger she was in as a result, though they often weren't far from the truth.  
  
Communication with her parents was now limited to the occasional phone call and dinner on the holidays, and her weekly tea with Dumbledore was quickly becoming her primary source for fatherly advice.  
  
Dumbledore, for his part, enjoyed the teas, and Hermione's company immensely, but worried at the prospect of such a young woman finding more social merit in tea with an old man than in the company of her peers.  
  
One Friday afternoon, in late September, however, Dumbledore began to plot. 


	2. Chapter two

Chapter two  
  
Dumbledore had been a Very Old Man for quite some time now, but had never truly felt old. In the six years since Voldemort had come back after the Tri-Wizard Cup, he felt himself aging every day. Slowly, the twinkle had begun to slip from his eye, and the ever-present laughter had begun to fade from his voice.  
  
Few had noticed, of course; compared to the rest of the Order, now undoubtedly worse for wear after six long years of fighting, Dumbledore was jolly as could be, his ever present optimism and seeming omnipresence had kept them all going, had kept them sane.  
  
He knew this all too well, and the extra burden only made him wearier. He was losing sight of his reasons for fighting. The members of the order were like children to him, the few members who were his peers were like siblings, but watching each of their lives change irreparably in the face of war had nearly crumbled his resolve.  
  
What Albus needed most was a reminder of his faith in the Order, in his friends, and in him. Hope from the ashes.  
  
An early fall afternoon found him seated comfortably in an overlarge wing backed chair in his office, plucking lemon drop after lemon drop from a small bag on his desk and sucking the sweets contemplatively, stroking a rather peaked looking Fawkes and listening intently to the faint murmur of the sorting cap, perched lazily on his head.  
  
The old cap was, aside from his duties as the sorting hat, possessed of a dry wit and great wisdom, not to mention a fair bit of spare time, it's occupation only requiring attention for less than an hour each year.  
  
Dumbledore had found the hat to be a worthy conversationalist, and quite the therapist, when need be. There was something to be said for wise, un- biased, thought-reading caps who had nothing better to do with three hundred and sixty for days of the year than come up with brilliant solutions to world-threatening problems.  
  
And the sorting cap's best solution to Dumbledore's doldrums yet was for a cocktail of age old remedies; new alliances to help with the Order, good company to help with his moods, and a bit of romance, to make the world go round.  
  
Having dismissed the notion of romance for himself, given a lack of venerable withes or wizards his age with whom he did not feel either a great deal of either contempt or brotherly love (after all, one is bound to have established alliances and enemies by the ripe old age of . . . whatever he was) Albus was determined to play match maker, if not for the long lasting happiness of his unsuspecting victims, then for his own amusement at being yenta to a generation younger than his favourite pair of socks. 


	3. chapter three

Despite his consistently snarky demeanor towards students, Severus had always shown common courtesy and respect for most of the staff, and, while not being the most social of creatures, had honed something akin to friendship with a few of his colleagues.  
  
Still, Dumbledore was thoroughly convinced that a night at the pub in Hogsmeade every other weekend wasn't quite enough social interaction, and after all Severus had been through, he needed, more than ever, to open up and build relationships with his peers.  
  
The past six years had been difficult on everyone in the Order, but none more than Severus, who had tried to reenter the fold as a spy shortly after Voldemort's return, but having been betrayed by the doubts of Karkaroff and the elder Malfoy, was nearly killed in the process.  
  
In fact, he had been killed, and it had taken Poppy Pomfrey and three St. Mungo's Healers working round the clock for nearly two days to fully resuscitate him. Even after his body had been, for the most part, healed, members of the Order had taken turns sitting watch over him for three weeks, while he battled with himself, and Albus.  
  
He had truly wanted to die, and had welcomed death at the hands of his former cohorts. A fitting end for a man who felt defined by his failures and betrayals, and indeed, was defined by them, as far as much of the wizarding public was concerned.  
  
While Severus Snape would never commit suicide, he wasn't above dangerous carelessness in times of deep depression, and refused, or could not bring himself to eat. He had been withering away to a ghost of a man until Albus finally intervened and forced him to care for his body, and did his best to engage the man's mind.  
  
His activities with the order became a sort of lifeline for Severus, who had thought his usefulness gone when he was found out as a spy, but was soon put to work by both the Order and the Ministry's aurors, helping to debrief aurors on how to prepare for death eater raids and tracking the Dark Revels.  
  
His knowledge of the inner structure of the death eater society, as well as insight into the psychological tactics used both within the circle and on their victims, proved invaluable.  
  
After Severus had been exposed a spy, Voldemort had changed many of his tactics, schedules and meeting places to make his hard-won information practically useless, but many of the lesser death eaters had been plucked from the ranks via speedy trials and prosecutions through the ministry of magic based on hard evidence gathered before he was caught.  
  
They had weakened the ranks, to be sure, but Voldemort was gathering new recruits with unprecedented speed. People too young to remember the terror of the first wave of Voldemort's power were eager for a chance to prove themselves by any means possible.  
  
The staff at Hogwarts found themselves with the tremendous responsibility if trying to keep their students from turning to Voldemort, and the Defense of the Dark Arts job now had a rotation of instructors, ranging from Aurors to War Mages.  
  
DADA was now an entire department of the curriculum, lead by Remus Lupin, who had been reinstated the year after Voldemort had returned, and was invaluable to the school for his ability to reach students as a father figure and role model, being the youngest staff member along with Snape, who could hardly be considered to have friendly relationships with his students, even his prized Slytherin. 


	4. chapter four

When Hermione arrived for her Friday tea with Dumbledore, she sensed immediately that he was up to something. He was wearing his signature "up to something' grin, and for once did not try to ply her a vast array of sweets, instead having a platter of crumpets and strawberry jam- her favourite- at the ready. She registered the change immediately, and stopped to stare at Dumbledore accusingly before she was three steps into the room.  
  
"What are you up to?' she demanded. Albus gave her his best innocent old man face and she laughed, then crossed the room to embrace him.  
  
"Now spill". It was as a much a good-tempered threat as it was a question, and Dumbledore broke into a wide smile and gestured for her to sit down as he settled into his favourite chair by the desk.  
  
"I have a proposal for you, a new project for the Order. If, of course, you have the time" Hermione rose to the bait, as he knew she would. Insinuating that Hermione had too much on her plate, and she always did, was a surefire way to get her to take on a half-dozen extra projects, just to prove that she could.  
  
Hermione settled in and listened as Albus detailed his idea for creating immediate response teams who would work under joint direction of the Order of the Pheonix and the Ministry of Magic to try and prevent likely death eater attacks through auror intervention and protection of the potential victims, and to supply teams of mediwizards and other experts with specialized knowledge of common death eater attack methods who could provide the best possible care at a moments notice.  
  
She had paid careful attention to his pitch, her eyes growing wide with enthusiasm and Albus could practically see the gears turning in her mind.  
  
"But where do I fit in to this plan, you said that you needed me specifically?" she asked, as soon as he had wrapped up his introductory spiel.  
  
"You, my dear, would organize the project, if not head it yourself once it was functional. I have one other person in mind, another member of the order, who will work with you to determine what and whom will be necessary. Someone with an extensive knowledge of typical death eater attacks and patterns."  
  
"You don't mean Professor Snape, do you?!" Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers and there was a note of panic in her voice.  
  
She respected her former potion's master immensely, and had come to understand his reasons for being an utter bastard a bit better through her work with the Order. However, she had always felt that he loathed her, and couldn't imagine that he would be willing to work with her on a project of this magnitude, where it would be essential for her to be "an insufferable know-it-all" on a regular basis.  
  
"Of course I mean Severus, dear. He is really the best man for the job, as you are the best woman." He smirked briefly at his bad pun before continuing " With your research in protection and concealment charms, extensive knowledge of the aurors and other operations of the Ministry, and abilities to plan and organize large missions involving many different groups of experts, your influence on the project would be essential. I can hardly imagine Severus coordinating teams of people, just none of your research, no matter how thorough, can compare to Severus' . . . shall we say, 'field knowledge' when it comes to death eater attacks."  
  
Hermione was a bit put off by the 'research isn't everything' dig, but had to concede the point.  
  
"I can do it, I'm sure, but it will take several weeks, and quite a bit of cooperation between Prodessor Snape and I. Has he already agreed to the project, knowing that he'll be working with me, of all people?"  
  
"I plan on speaking to him this evening, and I am most confidant that he will agree" Dumbledore responded, with a conspicuous grin twitching at the corner of his mouth "and I do not doubt that you two will work well to each other after you've had time to. . . acclimate, of course, to each other as colleagues rather than teacher and student".  
  
Dumbledore's confidence only made Hermione more nervous, but she nodded her assent, already brainstorming for the project in the back of her mind.. 


	5. chapter five

Chapter five  
  
That Sunday evening had been agreed upon for their preliminary 'brainstorm' meeting, after a brief owl exchange that, while superficially courteous, had left them both feeling rather edgy.  
  
Severus had agreed to the project immediately, surprising Dumbledore more than a little, though he kept this to himself.  
  
He knew that arguing with Albus would be useless, and he was relieved to have another project to distract him, anyway.  
  
Analyzing the latest potions used by the death eaters had been dull work; they clearly hadn't found a suitable replacement for him yet, he observed wryly, as whomever had been creating the newest arsenal of debilitating and mind-affecting potions recently was an utter hack, though they had produced thoroughly gruesome and appalling results, nonetheless.  
  
Severus was, in truth, eager to be involved with prevention, for a change, rather than more forensic analysis of the brutal aftermath of the attacks. He felt that the Order was merely responding to Death Eater threats, rather than preventing them altogether.  
  
Grudgingly, he found himself admitting that Hermione was a brilliant mind and a valuable asset to the Order, no matter how great a pain-in-the-arse she had been to instruct during her years at Hogwarts.  
  
Sunday evening found Hermione fidgeting in front of Snape's quarters in the dungeons of Hogwarts. She had been surprised when he had declared that they would meet in his private study, but had not wanted to risk getting off to a bad start. Snape was brilliant, she knew, but edgy, even with colleagues.  
  
She was nervous, to be sure, but also secretly excited to be working with Snape. She had always admired him greatly, and saw the project as a last chance to prove herself as a valuable mind, rather than just an obnoxious know-it all.  
  
After finally screwing up the courage to knock, the door swung open immediately, and Hermione had the rather uneasy suspicion that Snape had known of her presence all along, and had been waiting for her to gather her courage.  
  
He swept her inside briskly, and she hurried to keep up as he strode through a rather comfortable looking sitting room and lead her into a separate study, nearly twice the size of the salon, the walls lined, floor to ceiling with books.  
  
Hermione's eyes grew wide as she took in a library that she assumed easily rivaled Hogwarts own, and, she suspected, contained few duplicates of the school library's stores.  
  
Hearing her own small gasp, she quickly composed herself and took in the rest of the room, a fireplace at the far wall, a large work table in the center of the room with two chairs, and a narrow door in the corner leading to an adjoining room, which appeared to be a small lab room.  
  
After her quick inventory of the room, Hermione turned to face her former professor, who seemed torn between a stern scowl and an amused smirk. The result was a rather sour expression, and she had to stifle her own grin as she looked at him expectantly.  
  
"If you've quite finished dawdling, Miss Granger, let's get on with this. "  
  
It was going to be long evening. 


End file.
